


the bridge we burnt is being built again

by Nailpolish3638



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-season 2 fic, Sickfic, sick!Ander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 08:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nailpolish3638/pseuds/Nailpolish3638
Summary: Ander's nosebleeds and headaches start to add up.





	the bridge we burnt is being built again

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers- I am not Spanish, and I am not a doctor- I’m just girl dipping her toes into the fandom and pretending to know something about medicine. Also, in this universe, Guzman and Nadia have worked things out (this is only relevant for very minor background stuff). I didn’t flesh out how that happened, so feel free to fill in your own headcannon.
> 
> ALSO- for the record, I don’t actually think Ander will have cancer next season. I’ve just always been a sucker for hurt/comfort and medical dramas, so once the idea hit me, it wouldn’t let me go.
> 
> Title from a Leona Lewis song.

Ander isn’t okay. Omar thought he would get better now that everything is out in the open and Ander isn’t holding onto Polo’s terrible secret anymore, but he isn’t better. 

Well, that’s not fair. Ander is clearly trying. He doesn’t drink as much anymore. He’s being honest again with Omar, reopening the communication that’s always been at the heart of their relationship. 

But he’s still kind of a mess. Ander doesn’t really talk to anyone besides Omar and his mother these days. Azucena had been appalled when it came out that Ander had been keeping Polo’s secret, but she’d also been empathetic. She had mostly seemed happy to finally understand why her son had been slowly self-destructing for the past few months. Omar knows Ander talks to Nadia at school and Samu occasionally, but with both of them entwined in Guzman’s world, Ander seems to be keeping them at an arm’s length. Whether out of respect for Guzman’s feelings or fear that they’ll eventually reject him too, Omar isn’t sure. He just knows that even though Ander is finally free to speak his mind, he still seems so isolated.

And Ander doesn’t sleep. Not really. Especially not when Omar has a late shift at the club and isn’t there to make Ander get in bed at a reasonable time. On those nights, Omar comes home to find Ander blankly staring out the window in his room or mindlessly scrolling through his phone on the living room couch. Omar usually has to gently corral him into bed and pull him close, so Ander’s head rests on Omar’s shoulder. He’ll scratch Ander’s back and play with his hair until eventually Ander’s breaths are heavy and he’s let himself relax enough to fall asleep for the time being. 

Ander has always been tactile with Omar, always ready with a touch or a kiss or his arms around Omar’s shoulders. But now he seems almost desperate to have Omar near him. Whenever they’re in the same room, Ander makes sure they’re touching, even if it’s just knocking their knees together under the dinner table as Azucena talks about her day at school. It’s like after holding things in and isolating himself for so long, Ander craves the comfort of having Omar close again. And Omar wants to do everything he can to put Ander at ease, make him feel seen and accepted and wanted. So when Ander reaches toward him, Omar always reaches back with both hands. 

***  
One evening after his late night shift, Omar sighs in relief as he toes off his shoes, climbs the stairs, and pushes open their bedroom door. Ander is lying in bed on top of the covers, eyes open and looking unseeingly out of the skylight above him. 

“Ander?”

Ander shifts and looks over at Omar as he unbuttons his work shirt and let his pants fall to the ground by the bed, leaving him in his undershirt and boxers. Omar climbs onto the bed, and Ander smiles softly, holding out a hand toward him. 

“Babe, why are you still up?” Omar asks, though he’s not surprised to find Ander awake.

Ander groans softly and says, “Couldn’t sleep. I have a headache.” Omar settles on his pillow and tugs Ander toward his side of the bed, gathering Ander into his arms. Ander nestles into Omar’s grip, resting his head on Omar’s chest. 

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping for a while now. Do you want to talk about it?”

Ander is silent for a few moments, then he says, “When I close my eyes, it all comes back. I just think about Polo. And Guzman. And it’s like I still have everything looming over my head.” There’s a tremble in his voice as he continues, “And I just feel so ashamed. That I lied to Guzman. He’s been my best friend since we were little. And I treated _you_ terribly, and you’re still here, and I just don’t deserve-“

“Ander,” Omar interrupts, stroking Ander’s cheek where tears have started to fall. “Ander, I forgave you. I can’t speak for Guzman, but just give him some time, okay? If he’s smart, he’ll realize what you were going through. That you were in an impossible situation. And that you’re just a guy who fucked up. He’ll remember that you’re his friend. He knew something was going on with you, and hopefully in time he’ll put together how much it was killing you to keep this in.” 

Ander muffles his tears in Omar’s neck, his breath catching. “You weren’t there when they arrested Polo. You didn’t see how angry he was. How much I disgusted him. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me. But that’s what I deserve. And at least he knows the truth now.” 

Omar feels helpless, wondering what he can do to help this sweet boy he loves stop torturing himself over something he can’t change. Wheels turn in his head, thoughts roughly forming into an idea about getting Samu involved. Samuel could convince Guzman to talk to Omar. Maybe Guzman will never forgive Ander by himself, but Omar can at least make him see how badly Ander feels about keeping Polo’s secret. In the meantime though, all he can do is hold his boyfriend close and offer comfort as Ander slowly calms down and drifts to sleep. 

***  
Omar startles awake, looking around to see what had woken him. Rain patters on the skylight above, the only sound in the room aside from Ander’s quiet, even breaths. Omar shifts in the bed, his left arm tingling with pins and needles from Ander’s head resting on his shoulder. As he slowly moves out from under Ander, Omar’s damp shirt collar rubs against his neck. He sighs as he thinks about Ander’s tears from last night, telling himself he’ll text Samu soon about Guzman. He sits up to pull his shirt off and notices a dark, wet spot on the left shoulder. Squinting, he brings it closer to his face to see more clearly in the moonlight. Omar scrunches his eyebrows as he tries to figure out what must have spilled on his shirt to make a stain like that and looks over his shoulder towards the head of the bed. His eyes widen and his heart starts pounding in his chest when he realizes the spot on his shirt isn’t from a spill at work last night or Ander’s dried tears. It’s blood. 

There’s blood on Ander’s face. Omar is frozen in place, sitting at the foot of the bed. Flashbacks fly through his mind of Ander lying unconscious on the ground, face bloodied after getting beat up by Nano’s friends. He quickly snaps back to the present and scrambles up the bed, shakes Ander’s shoulders. He moves his hands to cup Ander’s cheeks, but stops at the last second and hovers over Ander’s face as he sees that the blood is dripping from his nose.

“Ander!” He cries out. “Ander, you’re bleeding. Wake up. Babe, wake up! Please wake up,” he begs.

Ander’s eyes fly open at the sound of Omar’s frantic voice. 

“What’s going on?” Ander’s voice is rough with sleep. 

“Your nose is bleeding. Here, get out of bed, let’s go into the bathroom.” 

Omar hurries Ander up and into the bathroom and tries to stay calm as he tells Ander to sit up on the counter, handing him a tissue to hold to his nose to stop the bleeding. Under the harsh bathroom lights, Ander is pale and his face and neck are streaked dark red. 

“Do you feel okay? Fuck, let’s get you cleaned up. Why is your nose bleeding? Has this ever happened to you before?” Omar wets a towel under the faucet and steps between Ander’s legs, scrubbing gently at the blood on his face and neck. 

Ander leans his neck to the side, letting Omar tend to him. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he grumbles. “It’s happened a few times in the past couple months. I think it’s just stress or something. Don’t worry so much.” 

Wiping dried blood off the beauty mark on Ander’s neck, Omar bites his lip and looks into Ander’s eyes. “I’m your boyfriend, I’m allowed to worry about you, Ander. Fuck, I woke up, and you were bleeding everywhere. You scared me! If it happens again, we’re telling your mom, okay?”

“Okay, okay, honey.” The pet name makes Omar huff out a small laugh and the edges of his lips turn up. He presses a soft kiss to Ander’s lips and gently pulls him off the counter, shuffling him back into the bedroom to try and sleep for a few more hours before they have to wake up for school. 

***  
The next morning they stand in the bathroom, shaving side by side. Ander doesn’t have to shave as often as Omar, just every few days maybe, but Omar has to every morning or the stubble starts getting thick on his jawline. Omar catches Ander’s eyes following the strokes of his razor in the mirror. “What?”

“There’s just something sexy about you like this,” Ander grins. His eyes twinkle as Omar laughs at him. 

“Hey, none of that now. We’re already running late from oversleeping this morning. And your mother is downstairs making breakfast, she’ll call us down any minute.”

“Fine, but I’m allowed to think you look sexy getting ready in the morning. I like that only I get to see you like this.”

Omar shakes his head and turns back to the mirror.

***  
Ander feels good going into school that morning. Before class starts he slides into the seat next to Nadia. She glances over at him with a small smile. 

Ander bites his lip, trying to think of something to break the ice. “So…has Omar always talked in his sleep?”

Her eyebrows jump in surprise and her mouth tilts up with a chuckle. “Yes! How have we never talked about this before?”

They laugh, and Ander feels a fluttering, lonely piece of his soul settle. It’s like he’s been stuck under water for weeks, maybe months, and now he’s finally breaching the surface to breathe again. Maybe he doesn’t have to be so alone anymore. He has his mother and Omar. But maybe he can have other people too. Nadia is talking to him, joking with him, even though she has whatever it is she has with Guzman. And if she still wants to be around him after everything with Polo, maybe Guzman- No. He can’t let himself go there. He tells himself not to let hope grow that Guzman could one day forgive him, but a tiny seed has already been planted.

***  
A few weeks later, Omar ascends the stairs to their room after getting home from hanging out with Samuel. He hears the sound of retching coming from the bathroom, then the flush of the toilet and running water. He quickens his pace, taking the stairs two a time and peeks his head into the open bathroom door. 

Ander is rinsing out his mouth at the sink. He glances up and meets Omar’s worried gaze in the mirror. 

“What happened?” Omar asks.

“Nothing. Probably just something I ate,” Ander says with a grimace. His skin is pallid and the sheen of sweat on his forehead glistens in the bathroom lights, but his voice is steady. 

Omar’s hand brushes Ander’s arm as Ander leaves the bathroom. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’m just going to lay down for a while. I’ll be fine by dinner time.”

***  
They have to start keeping towels near the bed to clean up the nosebleeds. Ander insists it’s not a big deal, and he’s so adamant that against his better judgment, Omar agrees to keep quiet and not tell Azucena. 

***  
It all comes to a head at dinner one night. They’re talking about a test Omar has coming up in history class, but Ander hasn’t said much since they sat down to eat. He looks spaced out, eyes unfocused when Omar glances over him.

“Ander? Are you okay?”

Ander blinks slowly a few times, and then his eyes roll back as he slides sideways off his chair, slumping to the kitchen floor.

The worry that’s been nagging at the back of Omar’s brain for weeks boils over as he jolts to his feet, pushing his chair aside and dropping to the floor next Ander. “Ander! Ander?” 

Azucena rushes around the table and crouches next to Ander’s prone body, shaking his shoulders. 

Seconds feel like hours as Ander lays unresponsive on the ground. Panic seizes Omar as his mind’s eye takes him back to Ander passing out in the club at Christmas time. Omar keeps touching him, rubbing his arms, calling his name. Azucena is reaching for her phone, probably to call an ambulance, when Ander’s groggily opens eyes. 

“What happened?” Ander’s voice is weak as he looks up at them. Azucena drops her phone back on the table and comes closer. 

“You passed out, Ander. How do you feel? Can you sit up?” Azucena gestures to Omar and they crowd in close, grabbing Ander’s arms and hoisting him up onto his chair. Omar heads to the sink, filling a glass of water for him while Ander’s mom holds a hand to his forehead. “You don’t have a fever,” she muses aloud. “What happened, Ander?”

“I don’t know, Mama. I’ve had a headache all afternoon, and I just started to feel dizzy.”

“He’s been having headaches and nosebleeds a lot lately. And feeling nauseated,” Omar adds quickly. He brings the glass of water over, forcing it into Ander’s hand. Ander shoots him a glare. Omar shrugs at him and looks over to Azucena.

“Really? Why haven’t you said anything to me, Ander?”

“Sorry, Mama, I didn’t want you to worry. It’s probably nothing.”

“Maybe. But we’re making an appointment with the doctor to make sure. How do you feel now?

“I’m tired, I think I just need to go up to bed.” Ander gets up slowly from his chair. He seems steady on his feet, and Omar doesn’t want to overwhelm him, so he just watches as Ander leaves the room.

Azucena sends a worried look after him. Omar thinks about how they’ve kept her in the dark these past few weeks about Ander’s nosebleeds and headaches. His stomach churns with guilt as he starts to wonder if maybe something more serious than he’d considered could be going on. “Do you really think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, darling. I hope not. But a mother worries, you know? It’ll put my mind at ease to have a doctor look at him.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something earlier. He didn’t want to make you worry.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault, Omar. My son has always been stubborn.”

As Omar helps her clean up the dishes, his thoughts keep going back to Ander’s still body, passed out on the kitchen floor, and a weight like a stone sinks in his stomach.

***  
Azucena sets up a doctor’s appointment the next day, which leads to bloodwork and referrals to a cardiologist, a neurologist and an ear, nose, and throat doctor. Ander hates it. The only time he’s ever really spent with doctors was for tennis- for yearly sports physicals and whenever he got injured on the court or during practice. He wishes his mom had never found out about everything, so all those memories wouldn’t get dredged up and bring thoughts of his father with them. But at this point he also just wants the headaches and the nosebleeds to stop. With any luck, they’ll figure out the problem quickly, and he can just move on from all of this.

***  
With everything going on with Ander, Omar realizes he never got around to asking Samu about meeting up with Guzman. But now more than ever, he figures Ander needs the people who care about him most to be there for him. And Omar was never Guzman’s biggest fan, what with how he treated Nadia in the beginning. And even how he’d treated Ander- meddling like only he knew best. Guzman had been the one to tell Ander’s father about the pot, after all. And he’d always gotten on Ander about not coming out to him first. But even Omar can tell that Guzman was coming from a place of wanting to protect Ander- from the drugs and people he perceived as being a bad influence on his friend. Even if at one point Omar himself had been one of the people Guzman tried to protect Ander from. But in this situation, Omar knows he needs to put his own feelings about Guzman aside to do whatever he can to support Ander. And Ander is still obviously miserable about how things played out with Guzman. 

So he texts Samuel, and he sets up a time for the three of them to meet up. 

Samu tells Omar to come over one day while he and Guzman are studying at his apartment, so rides over on his bike and climbs up the stairs, tension in his muscles as he tries to figure out what exactly he wants to say to Guzman. 

He knocks on the door to Samuel’s apartment and lets himself in, striding over to Samu’s room. When he enters the room, Guzman’s head snaps up from the desk. As soon as Guzman’s eyes lock with his, Omar can tell that Samuel hadn’t told him Omar was coming. There’s a storm brewing on his face as he glares at Omar standing in the doorway.

“What’s he doing here?” Guzman spits.

Omar looks at Samuel and tries to convey his annoyance telepathically. _Really, buddy? You thought springing this on him as a surprise was the best way to go about it?_

Samu shrugs at Omar from his spot on the edge of his bed and speaks up, “He just wants to talk, Guzman.”

“I have nothing to say to him or his traitor boyfriend.”

Omar sits on the bed next to Samu. “Look, I don’t want to be here any more than you do, but I’m just asking you to hear me out. Ander doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“He’s killing himself over what happened. He feels terrible about what he did. But you have to know that Ander was in a really difficult situation. He wanted to tell you so bad-“

“So you knew, too? He told you?” Guzman’s voice is low and calculated. His eyes are piercing as he glowers across the room at Omar.

“No! He didn’t tell me. I could tell something was going on with him, but he wouldn’t talk about it.” Omar glances down, wringing his hands in his lap. “I almost left him over it, because he was just self-destructing, and there was nothing I could do if he wouldn’t talk. I know you could tell that something was wrong with him, too. It was destroying him from the inside to keep Polo’s secret from us. But mostly from you.”

“It doesn’t matter! He was right to feel terrible about it! He-“

“Guzman, he was terrified the whole time. Polo was manipulating him into keeping quiet.” Omar shifts forward. If he gets this right, maybe Ander can finally have his friend back. The thought steels him as looks at Guzman. “Look man, I can’t imagine what you went through, what you’re going through right now. But just try and think about what Ander was going through too. He never wanted to hurt you. You’re his best friend. Polo told him if said anything, and you found out that one of your friends killed Marina and another friend had kept that secret from you, then you’d be alone. He knew you’d hate him for not telling you, and he knew how much pain you were in already, and he didn’t want you to be alone in that. In a fucked up way, he was trying to protect you.”

“Well he was right about me hating him for not telling me.”

“And I get that. He doesn’t think you’ll ever forgive him for it. And he’s miserable. Thinks he deserves to be alone. All I’m asking is for you to try and remember that he’s been your friend for a very long time, Guzman. You already lost your sister. You don’t have to push Ander away and lose him forever too.”

Omar isn’t sure, but he thinks maybe, just maybe Guzman’s glare softens a bit. Having said his piece, Omar stands up. He glances over at Samu and nods to him, silently thanking him for setting up the meeting. Then he turns and walks out of the room, leaving the apartment and heading down the stairs. He grabs his bike and rides back toward Ander’s house. He should be home from the doctor’s office soon.

***  
The car is pulling up to the house as Omar dismounts from his bike. 

“How’d it go?” Omar asks when Ander and Azucena step out onto the driveway.

“Well, they did the brain MRI, so now we just have to wait until they call with the results.”

The three of them make their way inside, and Omar and Ander head up to their room. Ander flops face-first onto the bed and groans. “I just want all of this to be over. It’s stupid.”

Omar sits on the edge of the bed next Ander and strokes his hand over Ander’s back. “I know you hate all this. Just do it for your mother and me, okay? Humor us. You scared us, and we just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I’m fine,” Ander mutters as he turns over, but his tone is tinged with affection. “But since I’m doing this for you, what are you going to do for me?” He eyes Omar, giving him a sly smile as he reaches up, puts a hand around the back of his neck and pulls Omar down toward him. 

Omar rolls his eyes but doesn’t resist when Ander’s lips meet his. This horny boy will be the death of him. But no one will find Omar complaining about that.

***  
Azucena’s phone rings at the dinner table the day after Ander’s brain scan. “It’s the doctor’s office,” she says as she picks it up. Omar exchanges a glance with Ander. The doctor had said to expect the results by the end of the week, so Omar’s surprised she’s calling so soon. A flicker of worry flashes through Omar’s mind and he sees it reflected in Ander’s eyes. The air is charged while they sit in silence, waiting.

When she hangs up Azucena says, “The doctor wants us to come in tomorrow after school to discuss the scans. The assistant wouldn’t say anything else on the phone.” Her tone is edgy, and she quickly changes the subject, trying to distract them all from what the phone call suggests. Doctors don’t call early and have you come into the office as soon as possible if it’s good news.

Concern worms its way into Omar’s heart. 

***  
Omar is distracted throughout his work shift the next day while Ander and Azucena are at the doctor’s office. He puts bottles back in the wrong places, spaces out while doing inventory, and loses track of conversations with his coworkers. He checks his phone every couple of minute even though he hasn’t felt the vibration of a call or text in his pocket. He finally breaks toward the end of his shift and texts Ander.

<<_What did they say?_

He doesn’t hear back before he gets on his bike and heads back to the house.

When Omar gets home, Ander and Azucena are sitting solemnly at the kitchen table. Ander’s mom is ruffling through pamphlets and paperwork scattered over the surface while Ander stares blankly at the packets in front of him. 

There’s a tension in the air that Omar feels palpably as he glances between the two silent figures at the table. “What’s going on? I didn’t hear from you after the appointment. What did the doctor say?”

Ander’s mother looks like she’s been crying, eyes red when she glances over at Omar. 

“They said-“ Ander starts, his voice rough as if he too has been crying or maybe just hasn’t spoken in a while. “The scans showed a brain tumor.”

Omar’s knees are weak under him. His bag drops from his hand onto the floor and he makes his way to the table, falling into the seat next to Ander. “No. What? But…” Ice courses through his veins, and Omar is paralyzed, heart constricting in his chest. He can’t seem to find any words. His mind feels strangely blank, his thoughts racing too fast for him to grab onto. 

Azucena cuts in, and Omar’s gaze snaps towards her. “It’s called a meningioma. They think it’s benign. But it’s pressing against nerves and brain tissue, which is causing the headaches and nosebleeds and fainting. So they want to do surgery before it gets worse.”

“Brain surgery?” It feels like someone else’s voice is coming from Omar’s mouth.

“Yes,” She says. “Next week.”

“What? So soon?” Omar is on autopilot, his mind trying to keep track of the conversation while simultaneously rejecting the information Ander and Azucena are presenting to him. _This can’t be real._

“The doctor says they need to remove the tumor and do a biopsy- run some tests, just in case, to make sure it’s not cancerous. The tumor was probably slowly growing for a while, but since it’s causing symptoms now they want to get it out as soon as they can. The surgery is scheduled for next Wednesday.”

“I’m coming,” Omar says quickly. He isn’t really processing any of this, there’s a buzzing in his ears and his heart is pounding in his chest. The only thing he can focus on is being there for Ander. And if Ander is having brain surgery, Omar has to be there. He isn’t going to let Azucena or the doctors or anyone get in his way.

“Of course, Omar. Of course you can come to the hospital. I’ve already taken time from work for the surgery and the recovery time. I’ll make sure you can take some time off from school too.”

Ander has kept silent through the discussion, and Omar doesn’t know what to do for him, can’t get a read on what he’s feeling.

“Ander?”

“I think I just need to be alone for a bit.” Ander gets up from the table and stalks towards the stairs up to his room.

***  
Omar finds him in the bathroom later, sitting by the open window. “I just want a cigarette or a joint or something, but they said I can’t smoke for a while. And I can’t drink. I can’t do anything but sit here and wait for the damn surgery.”

“What do you need from me? Shit, Ander, what can I do?” Omar whispers, voice raspy from holding back tears. 

“I don’t know. I have a fucking brain tumor, Omar, what is there to do, really?” Ander starts slowly, but his words speed up as he goes on, getting frantic. “I mean, I’ve been having the headaches and nosebleeds and whatever, but I thought they were going to say it was migraines or stress or something. Not this.” 

Omar’s heart stutters in his chest and the air leaves his lungs as he strides across the bathroom, wrapping his arms around Ander. He feels the moment when Ander starts to cry, his shoulders and chest trembling as struggles to breathe through the tears. Ander’s voice is breaking as forces the next words out. “But maybe this is what I deserve. After what I did to Guzman.” 

Omar’s throat feels tight, and his voice is raw when he speaks. “No! Ander, no. This is not a punishment or karma or whatever crazy thing is running through your head right now. This is just shitty luck, okay?” He squeezes Ander tight and continues, “I’m going to be here the whole time. Through everything. You have me, Ander. We’re going to do whatever we have to do to get through this.”

“Okay, “ Ander whispers into Omar’s neck. “Okay.”

***  
Ander’s cranky during the week leading up to his surgery. It’s not like he’s addicted to the cigarettes, really. It would just be nice to have the distraction- something to do with his hands. A reason to dart outside for a few minutes and get away from his mother’s constant worried looks.

Omar notices and makes sure to stop smoking too. He’s not sure if it helps, but he’s willing to do anything to help Ander feel less alone.

***  
Ander decides to shave his head. The doctors told him they only need to shave part of his hair above his forehead, but he says it’ll look stupid like that, having a bald patch right up front. So they find themselves closed in the bathroom two days before the surgery with an electric shaver. Ander looks different like this. With his buzzed head and tired, blank eyes, a few pounds lighter because of the nausea of the last few weeks, Ander actually looks sick. And Omar can pinpoint the second his heart actually feels like it’s breaking. He stands behind Ander, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on Ander’s shoulder. Their gazes meet in the mirror, and Omar’s chest aches with emotion. Ander’s eyes are so pretty it hurts to look at them. “You’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.”

Ander’s lips tremble and the corners twitch up in a quick smile as a single tear tracks down his cheek. “I’m scared, Omar.”

They haven’t been talking about this. About the possibilities hanging in the balance- that something goes wrong with the surgery, that the doctors were mistaken and the biopsies show it actually is cancer, that a million little things could happen, and they can’t control any of them.

Omar pulls back enough to turn Ander around to face him and presses their foreheads together. “Me too. But I’m here, and we’re going to get through this, and one day we’ll look back and this will just be a memory.” It’s what he’s been telling himself when he can’t sleep at night. It’s what he has to believe right now so he can hold it together for Ander. 

He leans forward to peck Ander’s lips with a gentle kiss. Ander first responds softly, but Omar can feel the air shift and electrify when Ander surges forward, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss and bringing his hands up to cup Omar’s cheeks. He steps forward, pressing Omar against the door, and for long moments they kiss deeply, aggressively, the desperation of the moment wrapping around them like oppressive heat on scorching summer day. 

One of Ander’s hands leaves Omar’s face to clutch at the doorknob, turning it quickly and Omar pitches backward as the door falls open behind him. A creaky laugh startles out of his chest, his throat tight with emotion. Ander leads him stumbling backwards to their bed, kissing all the while, and it’s almost painful to do it, but Omar wrenches himself back from Ander. “Are you sure about this, Ander? I don’t want you to feel like-“

“I just want to feel normal right now, Omar. And there’s nothing more normal than fucking my boyfriend when he gets all sappy and tells me I’m beautiful, “ Ander smirks, eyes twinkling, still shining with a few unshed tears.

Another laugh escapes Omar’s throat and affection blooms his chest. He wants to memorize everything about this moment, just in case…just in case. He nods and pulls Ander back to him, clutching him close as they make their way across the room, pulling at clothes and kissing and tripping toward the bed. 

It feels like nothing outside of this moment and the two of them matters. Not even the fucking tumor growing inside of Ander’s head can touch this sacred thing they have together. And as Ander hovers over him, surrounding him and filling him and taking up parts of him Omar didn’t know were empty, Omar tries to trust in his earlier words. They’ll make it through this. They’ll be okay.

***  
They’re lying in bed the night before the surgery, and it’s quiet. They’re side by side on their backs, shoulders and arms brushing against each other. Neither of them is asleep, but the air between them feels fragile. Ander breaks the silence. “If something happens tomorrow-“

“No,” Omar says. “We’re not doing this.”

Ander shifts onto his side, resting his head on his right hand. He looks over at Omar and reaches out with his left hand to touch Omar’s chest. “Let me say this, Omar.”

“You’re going to be fine. Nothing’s going to happen. The doctors said-“

“It’s fucking brain surgery, Omar. We don’t know that I’m going to be fine.”

Omar opens his mouth, statistics and outcomes and facts ready to spill out from the hours he’s spent winding down rabbit holes of online research about meningiomas and supra-orbital craniotomies, but Ander shushes him with a click of his tongue and a finger over his lips. 

“You know what? I love you. And being with you is the best thing that ever happened to me.” Ander moves closer, lightly encircling the side of Omar’s neck with his hand and stroking Omar’s cheek with his thumb. “I don’t even know who I’d be right now if we never met.” The emotion in Ander’s gaze seeps into Omar’s soul. “Maybe I’d still be in the closet, still be a tennis player, and still be miserable about those parts of my life every day. So thank you. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Omar’s heart feels too big for his chest as he looks into Ander’s soft eyes and his own eyes burn with tears. Ander’s words take him back to the first time he ever told Omar he loved him and memories flash through his mind like shooting stars, too fast to pin down.

“Asshole. You didn’t have to make me cry. Come here.”

Ander moves closer and presses his lips to Omar’s, fear slipping into the kiss as they try and fail to forget what’s waiting for them in the morning. 

“You too, you know? I love you, “ Omar whispers against Ander’s lips.

While Ander eventually falls asleep that night, tucked into Omar’s side, Omar lies awake. He spends the night holding Ander close, anxious thoughts endlessly racing. 

***  
They get to the hospital early the day of the surgery, leaving the house at dawn. Nerves flutter in Omar’s stomach as they check Ander in at the front desk and wait for him to be called back. The nurse shows the three of them to a room and tells Ander to change into a hospital gown and get situated on the bed. Azucena steps out while he changes, and Omar seizes the opportunity to pull Ander into one last embrace. He burrows his head into Ander’s neck and squeezes him tight. With his nose against Ander’s skin like this, he gets a whiff of Ander’s soap under the sharp bleach hospital smell that’s been making him dizzy since they walked through the doors. A small part of him relaxes into the strong grip of Ander’s arms. He’s been trying so hard to be strong for Ander in all of this, but now that the time is here, it feels like he’s the one falling apart and Ander is holding him up. 

Omar pulls back and holds Ander’s cheeks in his hands, looking into his boyfriend’s tired eyes. They don’t say anything. _What’s left to say at this point?_ There’s no going back now. This is really happening. Heart swelling with emotion, Omar leans forward and plants a firm, short kiss on Ander’s lips.

They pull back as Azucena reenters the room. She steps up to them and wraps her arms around them both. “My boys,” she sighs. She presses a gentle kiss to Ander’s buzzed head. “We’ll be here the whole time, Ander. We’ll see you as soon as they let us back after they finish.”

“Okay, Mama,” Ander says, shifting out of the hug. The hospital bed creaks as Ander climbs on. There’s the rasp of rough sheets being pulled up, and Omar feels numb. 

“Oh, here,” Ander says, reaching up to unclasp his earring and hand it to Omar. For some reason this strikes Omar as the most surreal part of the whole morning. He’s never seen Ander without his earring in, he realizes. 

A curt knock sounds on the door, snapping Omar out of the strange thought. The nurse from before enters with the surgeon close behind. Ander and Azucena had met the surgeon at their last appointment, but Omar is seeing her for the first time. She’s wearing scrubs and a long, white coat, hair pulled back into a severe bun. She looks serious and capable, but her eyes are kind when she speaks, “We’re ready for you. We’ll take you back to the staging room, get you set up with an IV and situated with the device that will hold your head in place for the surgery. Once we head into the operating room, we’ll put you under anesthesia, put the breathing tube in your throat, and I’ll get started on the surgery. Just like we talked about last week, I’ll make a small incision in your eyebrow to get to the tumor, remove as much as possible, and we’ll send a biopsy to the lab. The whole procedure should take three to five hours.”

Omar thinks Azucena asks a question or two, but he can’t focus to listen to what she’s saying. He just looks at Ander and for the first time in a long time he prays. 

***  
They’ve been sitting in the waiting room for two hours and thirty-seven minutes when Omar’s phone buzzes with a text. At first he isn’t sure if it was really his phone or if his body has just actually started vibrating with all the pent up nerves.

>>_Ander’s not in school today- is everything okay?_

Nadia’s text draws a soft noise from the back of Omar’s throat. He’s been preoccupied with worrying about the surgery, hasn’t even thought about if Ander has told anyone at school what’s going on. With Azucena being the principal, Omar’s sure the teachers know something, so it’s not like Ander would have to explain to them why he was out from class. He bites his lip and mulls over what to tell his sister. He doesn’t want to share more than Ander would want, but this is Nadia. He can at least tell her some part of it.

<<_He’s having a procedure today. We’re at the hospital now. I don’t think he wanted people to know, so keep quiet about it, okay?_

>>_Is everything okay?? What happened? Omar, tell me!_

Omar starts typing, erases, starts typing again. Before he can decide what to tell her, his phone starts ringing in his hands. Omar jolts and looks guiltily around the waiting room as people sitting nearby shoot him glares. 

Omar darts a glance over to Azucena, “I’m going to take this in the hallway.” She nods and gives him a soft smile as he walks quickly out of the quiet waiting room. 

“Omar?” Nadia’s voice is worried when Omar answers the phone. 

“Nadia, are you calling me from school? You’re such a rebel these days,” Omar quips in a hushed voice, wary of being scolded for using his phone, even out here in the hallway. 

“Oh hush, Omar. I said I had to go to the bathroom. I’m in the girl’s locker room, no one can hear our conversation. What’s going on? You’re at the hospital?” She sounds upset, and her concern touches Omar. 

“I really don’t think Ander wanted people to know. But you’re my sister, and you’ll keep quiet, right?” The implied warning in his voice mixes with the need to just talk to someone else about all the shit that’s been happening. And Nadia is his sister. She knows how much Ander means to him.

“Of course. You can tell me, Omar.”

“Ander’s in surgery right now. He’s been feeling off for a while. And well, it’s a long story, but the doctors found a brain tumor. They’re pretty sure it’s not cancer, but they won’t be certain until they run some tests after the surgery.”

“No, Omar, are you serious? That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. Is he going to be okay? Are you okay?” She rushes through the words, shooting questions at him, rapid fire. 

“Shit, Nadia. I don’t even know. The only thing we can do is wait and hope everything goes okay with the surgery. The doctors seem pretty confident, so…” He tries not to let too much emotion bleed into his voice, but there’s only so much he can do to hold it together right now. He needs this surgery to hurry up and be over. 

“Omar,” her voice is soft. “The bell is ringing now, I need to get to class. But keep me updated. And Omar, you’re my brother. You can tell me these things, okay?”

“Okay, thanks Nadia.”

He hangs up and leans against the wall for minute, collecting himself before he heads back into the waiting room. His fingers brush Ander’s earring in his pocket, and it grounds him. He walks back through the door, sits down in the seat next to Azucena, and stares blankly ahead. A television is silently showing highlights from the Real Madrid game the night before, but Omar’s eyes can’t focus on the distraction it offers. This waiting room feels like the most powerless, vulnerable place in the world. He’s stuck in the limbo between knowing and not knowing, between hoping and trying to brace for possibilities he doesn’t even want to consider. He’s not sure how Azucena is getting by, but she’s always been so strong. Omar leans his head onto her shoulder and closes his eyes, prays again for Ander to be okay.

***  
“Muñoz?” 

Omar and Azucena shoot up from their chairs at the sound of the nurse calling Ander’s name. _This is it,_ Omar thinks, _the moment of truth_. The secretary at the desk in the waiting room gestures them through a door into a small room off to the side of the waiting room. The surgeon is standing inside, wearing a scrub cap, a loose mask dangling around her neck. Omar gives her a searching look as his heart catches in his throat. He feels like he’s bursting with equal parts anticipation and dread.

“We’re all finished. The surgery went well. I was able to get the entire tumor out.” Omar hears Azucena give out a shaky sigh, letting her armor fall for a minute as she drops into one of the chairs in the small room. 

“We already have a biopsy on the way to the lab,” the doctor continues. “Ander did well, he’s in recovery resting. You can follow me back now,” she gestures toward Azucena. She turns to Omar and says, “You can stay in the waiting room, son. A nurse will come get you when he’s moved to the room he’ll stay in this week while he recovers.” 

Omar’s gaze snaps to Azucena, a pang burning in his chest at the thought of having to go back into that waiting room for even one more second. 

“No, no, Omar is Ander’s boyfriend. He’s family. He’ll come back with us now.” Warmth swells in him at Azucena’s words. He will really never be able to thank her for how she’s completely embraced him, welcoming him into her home and her life these past few months. 

The doctor nods once and motions for them to follow her out of the room. 

Omar feels like he’s drifting through a fog as he follows Azucena and the surgeon through the maze of hallways leading to Ander’s recovery room. 

He steps through the doorway after Azucena and finally, after what feels like ages- _Has it really been less than six hours?_\- his eyes lock on Ander. Relief floods his body as he sees his boyfriend, tucked into the hospital bed. He’s still sleeping, and he looks pale and small under the bright hospital lights. A bandage covers his right eye and most of his forehead. The beeping of the monitors is the only sound in the room. The doctor leaves them, and they take seats on either side of Ander’s bed. Azucena types on her phone, probably messaging Ander’s dad to let him know Ander is in recovery. He’ll come by later tonight, having worked at the school today.

He grabs Ander’s hand, careful of the IV in his arm and the lines of the monitors. He turns in his chair to study Ander’s face and sees the little moon and sun tattoos peeking out from under the loose collar of Ander’s hospital gown. He smiles, so happy to just be close to Ander again after the torture of the waiting room. 

After a few minutes of quiet, Ander’s uncovered eye slowly blinks open. A fleeting thought flies through Omar’s mind- for a second he thinks it’s lucky that they did the surgery on the right side, so Omar can see Ander’s left eye now, framed by that endearing beauty mark. But as quickly as it comes, Omar chucks the thought, knowing that it doesn’t matter where they did the surgery, what the bandages cover now, or what scars Ander might have down the line. He could have scars all over his face for all Omar cares. All that matters now is that Ander made it through the surgery. 

“How are you feeling, darling?” Azucena asks, stroking Ander’s other arm. 

He blinks groggily a few more times. His gaze flits over to his mother, and he opens his mouth to speak. Nothing but a dry, raspy sound comes out of his throat, so closes his mouth again and swallows, tries again. “Mama? What happened?”

She’s gentle with him, voice soft. “You had the surgery, honey. We’re at the hospital. They said you might feel confused while the anesthesia wears off.” 

“Where’s Omar? Is he here? Did he leave?” Omar smiles softly at the distraught sound of Ander’s slightly loopy voice.

“I’m right here, babe.” Omar tugs on Ander’s hand, and he turns his head to see Omar sitting next to him. 

“Omar. Omarrrr. Hey,” Ander slurs. 

“Hey,” Omar chuckles. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Omar. Did I ever tell you how pretty you are? With your hair like that and your eyebrows. I love your eyebrows, Omar.” Ander looks so earnest, confessing his love for Omar’s bushy eyebrows, and all Omar can do is laugh. Ander hasn’t been this playful in ages. He’s been too weighed down by first the guilt and self-loathing over keeping Polo’s secret, then even more so by the fear surrounding the doctor’s visits and the surgery.

“My eyebrows love you too, idiot.” 

Eventually Ander falls back asleep, and the nurses come to transfer him to the room he’ll stay in all week while they monitor his recovery.

***  
The surgeon stops by during morning rounds five days after the operation. Omar and Azucena clutch Ander’s hands when she says they got the biopsy results back. She’s smiling as she tells them the tests were negative for cancer, the tumor really was benign. Azucena actually starts crying in relief. Ander just laughs at his mother, and his smile splits his face in half. 

Omar’s heart soars. He takes what feels like his first real breath in weeks. 

***  
The nurse has taken Ander’s bandages off today, leaving his stiches to the open air. Omar is surprised by how small the incision in his eyebrow is. Once it’s healed, he doubts anyone will be able to tell what Ander’s been through if they don’t know to look for the scar. 

Azucena has gone home for a few hours to do laundry and bring some home-cooked food to give them all a break from the hospital meals. Omar is crowded into the hospital bed next to Ander, holding his hand and taking in the time they have to themselves before Azucena comes back. Ander had a headache this morning, which the nurse said is normal after brain surgery, but he seems to be doing better now that his pain medicine has kicked in. They both look up when a knock sounds at the door.

The sight of Guzman and Nadia in the doorway makes Omar a little wary, but he can feel a flicker of hope start to burn in his chest. He’d talked to Ander about it and gotten his blessing to tell Nadia more, so he’s been texting her all week with updates about Ander’s condition. Omar is a little pissed that Nadia clearly ignored his warnings to keep the news to herself. But he doubts Guzman is here to start trouble, so he thinks he may be thanking Nadia by the end of this if all goes well. _Damn, he hopes this goes well._

“Hey,” Nadia is the first to speak. “How’re you feeling, Ander?”

“Not bad. Thanks for coming by, Nadia.” Ander shifts himself in the bed, sitting up straighter and adjusting his hospital gown. Omar looks between Ander and Guzman. Guzman has kept notably silent so far, glancing around the room at all the monitors. His eyes seem to fix on Ander’s buzzed head. 

“Hey Nadia,” Omar starts. “Let’s go grab something from the cafeteria.” Omar squeezes Ander’s hand before letting go and getting up from the hospital bed. When he glances at Ander, his boyfriend looks nervous, but nods to Omar, telling him he’ll be okay here with Guzman. 

Omar brushes past Guzman, looking him in the eye. The two share a charged look, and then Omar puts an arm around Nadia’s shoulder and leads her out the door.

***  
Ander rubs his hand over his short hair and motions toward the chair next to his bed. “Guzman. Do you want to sit down?” 

Guzman slowly steps forward and drops into the seat. He still hasn’t said a word, and Ander feels anxiety zinging through his veins. He’s restless, sitting in this awkward quiet with someone he used to feel so comfortable with. 

When he can’t take it anymore, Ander breaks the silence. “I’m fine, Guzman. I’m not dying.”

“But you could have, right?” Guzman sends Ander a searching look. “A brain tumor is serious. “

“So Nadia told you? We got the biopsy results back, and it wasn’t cancerous, so I should be fine.” It’s still a relief to say those words. _It wasn’t cancer._ “The surgery went well. They got the whole tumor out. So I should be good once I’m out of here, and I get my strength back.”

Guzman gives Ander a considering look. “Bullshit. You’re acting like this isn’t a big deal. But you just had brain surgery for fucking tumor, man. That is a big deal.”

“Well, yeah. It was a big deal. But it’s over now. Hopefully for good.”

“When Nadia told me, I thought she was joking. A brain tumor? What are the odds of that happening? I didn’t want to believe her.” Guzman looks distraught. “And then I was so mad. Because I wanted to still be angry with you, but instead I was just terrified.”

“You can still be mad at me, Guzman.” Ander’s voice is low and sincere. “It’s what I deserve. What I did, not telling you about Polo- it was horrible. I regret it everyday. I wish I could go back and do things differently, but I can’t. And this fucking surgery thing doesn’t change any of that. So it’s okay. I’m going to be fine. You should still be mad at me.” 

“That’s the thing, though. I can’t just pretend this ‘fucking surgery thing’ doesn’t change anything. It made me realize that I could lose you anytime, just like I lost Marina. Well, the surgery and talking to Omar.”

“Omar? You talked to Omar?” Ander asks.

“Yeah, well more like he talked to me. He had a few things to say that made me think. It was a while ago. I was still pretty pissed then, but…” Guzman trails off and bites his lip. “I guess this all made me realize it’s not worth it to keep carrying this anger around. It’s actually kind of exhausting.” He shoots Ander a half smile, his gaze clear and honest. “What I’m trying to say is that what you did was bad. But I forgive you.”

Ander is speechless. His eyes shine with emotion as he looks at his best friend.

“That’s what brothers do, right?” His voice is deliberate as he continues. “So. Let’s just…try and move forward, I guess.” 

Ander lips turn up in a soft, disbelieving smile. He nods. He can’t quite believe it- this kind of feels like a dream. But a weight he didn’t realize was there is easing off his shoulders. 

They both glance around the room, eyes a little misty. Guzman clears his throat and turns back to Ander, eyes starting to sparkle as he opens his mouth. “So, you just had to copy me with the shaving your head thing, huh?” 

Ander looks over at him and a laugh bubbles up out of his chest. “Asshole,” he says, shaking his head as Guzman joins in chuckling.

***  
The day after Ander is discharged from the hospital, Azucena makes Omar go back to school. He doesn’t want to leave Ander, but takes comfort in the fact that at this point they know Ander is alright. He’ll go back to school himself tomorrow, just needs another day to rest before he’s ready. The knowledge doesn’t keep Omar from checking his phone all day, worrying about his boyfriend now that he’s really apart from him for the first time since his surgery.

When he gets home after school, Omar finds Ander resting in bed, the covers pulled up over his head as he lies on his side. Omar climbs in next to him and pulls the covers up over his head too. Omar is surprised to see Ander’s eyes open and looking over at him. “What are you doing, babe?”

Under here it feels like they’re in the their own world, with barely any light making its way through the sheets and all the sounds of the house dampened. 

“I’ve just been thinking.” Ander shifts closer to Omar, putting an arm around Omar’s side. “It still doesn’t feel real that Guzman came to the hospital. I can’t believe you went and talked to him and didn’t tell me.”

Omar smiles sheepishly and quietly asks, “Are you mad? I could see how much it upset you that he was angry with you. And you just kept beating yourself up about it, and I just wanted to help-“

“Omar!” Ander interrupts, chuckling and biting the soft smile on his lips. “I’m not mad. I’m just still processing it all. I never thought he’d get over what I did, what I kept from him.”

“But he did. He forgave you. And you know what that means, right?” Omar holds Ander’s gaze in the dim light of their little fort. “Now you need to forgive yourself. You can stop feeling guilty. And you can let go of whatever little part of you still believes you deserved to have a brain tumor.”

Ander’s eyes shine as he gives Omar a bashful look. “I’ll try.”

The air is getting thin under the covers, so Omar pulls the sheets down. He takes a deep breath as they emerge, but when he looks over at Ander pushing himself up from his pillow, he can’t breathe for another reason. Ander is radiant like this. Sunlight shines across his face from the skylight overhead and glows from his smile, lighting him up from within. In this moment he’s finally free, untainted by the self-loathing and anxiety and fear that have burdened him during the nightmare of these past few months. Omar can’t help himself as he surges forward, knocking Ander back onto his pillow with the force of his kiss. 

Peace settles deep into his soul, and Omar’s heart is lighter than it’s been in months. He finally knows that Ander is going to be okay.


End file.
